


Why hearst thou music sadly

by Syrena_of_the_lake



Series: Syrena's 3-sentence fics [15]
Category: La La Land (2016)
Genre: 3 Sentence Ficathon, Drabble, F/M, not actually 3 sentences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 09:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20006227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake
Summary: "We shouldn't have to choose," Mia said. "Between our dreams, and... our dreams."





	Why hearst thou music sadly

**Author's Note:**

> For an anonymous prompter from the 2017 3-sentence ficathon hosted by caramelsilver. The prompt: "City of stars, are you shining just for me? City of stars, there's so much that I can't see"

"We shouldn't have to choose," she said, and that line between her eyes furrowed, or maybe crinkled, for all he knew. Mia was the one who was good with words. Sebastian used the piano to say everything that couldn't be said, but it was funny how much could still be misunderstood.

Just to be clear: not funny, ha ha, or funny you say you hate jazz when all you've ever heard is "your call is important to us" hold music, but funny as in "funny that your dream should be falling in place while mine is falling apart."

Kind of like everyone misunderstands the meaning of "ironic" thanks to Alanis or Alana or whatever her name was. 

"You know?" she asked, and those big eyes of hers echoed the question, or maybe reflected it, and Sebastian didn't know what the hell she was talking about.

She knew. He could tell. She always knew.

But she let him flounder anyway. They both knew he'd hate it if she didn't. Monologues weren't their style.

"Know what?" he asked, finding relief in their old pattern of duet.

"We shouldn't have to choose," she repeated. "Between our dreams, and... _our_ dreams."

The Planetarium, looking strangely smaller in the daylight, loomed over her shoulder. No dazzling, spinning galaxies here - just a dome meekly glinting in the sun. That was Hollywood, all right: from starlight to glitter with a mere change in light. It wasn't so much a question of what was dream versus reality. It just depended on whose dream it was.

Sebastian knew which one he'd choose. Every time.

It was hers.

So he told her to go to Paris. "It's your dream," he repeated firmly, and this time Mia smiled. So did he. After all, how many times in life could a guy say he made his dream come true?


End file.
